Almost a month

It's been almost a month since I've set my intentions on writing here, in this digital space where maybe 10-50 people will hear my words spoken within the reiteration of their own mind's reading. Subject to interpretation, of course. But one month, almost, it has been, and today I remembered that I want to write here everyday most importantly for the reason that the release keeps me sane. In this last month, as like always, I have tempered my moods, calming and heightening my affect to suit the likes of the people around me. But for some reason, today, I am more resolved in my heart, and quick in my middle-finger muscle memory. I want to write because I want to live, and that desire doesn't always come so easliy or genuinely to a bipolar chic like me. But today?

Today I am sitting in the midst of my own broken heart. A dream I had just yesterday seems suddenly to be unreal. The person for whom my heart yearns decided to walk away, and I am still here. Living today despite the horrible possibility that the only script I'd ever written concerning love, is turning in to a bigger flop than any J Lo theatrical disaster. So I sit, and I cry, and I cry, and I cry, and I tell myself one hundred thousand times to stop thinking whatever it is I happen to be thinking at that moment which is most abundantly along the lines of self-hating, pessimistic, hateful, pitiful, and martyrdom. That's just how I roll.

See, the deal with being bipolar is that most often my thoughts and my emotions are guided by forces and chemicals outside of my control, and often outside of my awareness. I do not know that I am abnormal; frequently the only barometer for my whackyness will be the looks and attitudes of the people around me as I blow through conversations like a hurricane, or melt into emotional mush on their feet. In fact, not until I have begun to silently implode on my bathroom floor in a pool of my own thoughts and fears do I start to catch the idea that I'm suffering from something that I just don't understand.

Maybe this is why my heart is broken.

 

 There is an article published in yesterday's Wall Street Journal titled "The Magnitude of the Mess We're In" that I haven't yet read, but is on the top of my must-read list for the day. Yes, like, today. I find it sometimes quite difficult to fit into the hours given in one day the total number of experiences I'd like to have. There is so much to see and do and feel and taste and hear and learn that the time it would take to do it all pales in comparison.

Like right now I'm totally supposed to be in class. But it's raining. And my favorite person is not otherwise engaged, and I have internet, and coffee, and a new puppy all joyfully existing in my home. And so there it is that I shall remain also, to tell you this story...

About stumps.

 

Two inches below the surface

you don't even break the wake

but meters you have an' aren't showin'

Brrrrbbbrrrrrbrbrr...  ya give me the shakes

 

 

A forrest, he said, up under those ripples

the land, hardly cleared 'fore flood

old hickorys and oaks

they make your motor choke

and send fear through your blood

Tally-Quincy!!

I've never been on this lake before.... I bet that's hard to believe. But sometimes even just 4 miles can make all the difference in the world...

I never knew this was in my backyard. No, not literally. But kinda... Lake Talquin is amazing, and beautiful, and scary, and a little bit gross.

I spent the day on the water with my new digital water-proof camera, a few fishin poles, and the only wilderness guide I've ever met who's knowledge could rival my Dad's. I wish I could write about all the cool and interesting factoids I learned about this lake and its rivers and canals... but I keep all of that information safely stored in my boyfriend's brain. And he's asleep right now.

Needless to say... this lake is actually pretty darn cool.

This spot pictured above was on the creek with an Indian sounding Okeehokee-type name. It reminded us of that awfully awesome move Anaconda... ;)

In fact, I swore I would photo shop J-Lo and Ice-T (...or was it Cube? hmmmmm) into the bushes back there.

These bird's nests are everywhere along the rivers and the lake. I saw many Great Blue Herons, which was such a treat! My grandparents raised our family on a little canal-front house on Merritt Island fishing often from our dock chairs and scoping the grand, great herons on post after post down the brackish canal. The herons will forever remind me of my Grandmother, calling out rediculous bird calls and caws to the stoic creatures, and time after time never tiring of pointing them out to me.

Aaaahhh, yes. These are the stairs which lead to no where.... and from nowhere they follow.

The day on the lake was unbelievably peaceful. I didn't even take my phone in the boat. I know that the way in which I obsess over my phone could lead one to believe that I might freak without it, but the contrary is actually more close to the truth. I love the seldomly experienced, responsibility-free moments in time which grant me independence to exist in this world without having 'to answer' in any way, shape or form. You know those times when we make that conscious effort to float away from the crowd and into the softer, smoother, deeper waves?

Well that's what this day felt like for me...

Happy?

Sitting in the arms of my totally gorgeous, and very rational, boyfriend thinking about my day and my life I say, "I can't believe I finally lost those 30lbs! I'm happier than I could ever say in words!"

Looking abashed, my boyfriend asks, "Why can't you just say 'That makes me happy.'?"

Hmmm.

My frontal lobe immediately began churning and spawning thoughts and theories so quickly that I lurched across the table, to his consternation, and scrambled for the nearest pen and pad. I hastily scribbled:

"Suffice it to say that my incessant attempts at communication and diction are often fueled by the utter inadequacy of vocabulary in vocalizing and epitomizing the truth of my heart."

Ironically, my pleasure at the concoction of this magnificent sentence afore was actually equivalent to his suggested verbage, so as I put down my pen to rejoin the conversation, I could not help but to giggle out loud.

And so I said, in response to my convenient sentence, and with a cermonious drop of my pen and pad onto the table,

"That makes me happy."

.perception.

Relief comes in moments, on days, not always,
when the world's overcompensating pain seems dull and relentless...ly, I see
that the moments of ease came sparing and clean
with the staff-driven truth and the long white hair
always there
but only then that I felt, in repose, I suppose,
an ounce of relief.
But when my id, my ego, my self upon self says, to me, in a heated, heartfelt stutter:

"I ddiiddiiiddn't know....."

Then I know.

I know that this hole in my heart and this part in my soul
seem to be all I remember in the heat of my throws.
Times of peace or ease that sate
are those times of grit and grimace, and faith.
Much of the rest sits massively in wait
like a tumor webbed through synapse
...or a dog. at the gate.

Ok, this should be easy...

I used to have water and now I don't
Fish could prolly live here, but they won't
Scientists say "dang, we didn't know"
But the Indians 'round Jackson..... they say it's always been so.

Spirit of the Wolf

DO YOU SEE WHAT I SEE ??

It's the   spirit    of      the      wolf  

 

On some numbered dirt road in the Appalachicola National Forrest.